


Rhythm of Love

by Renegade_Reaper



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Singing, Slight trigger warning, cute boys being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 15:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15318240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renegade_Reaper/pseuds/Renegade_Reaper
Summary: Keith always known that Lance had the most angelic singing voice known to man. But they were dating, so he supposed he was a little biased. He could sit and listen to his boyfriend sing for hours - while they were cleaning, in the car, on the quad at their college campus. Even if he was goofing off, Lance still blew Keith away with his range and the sweetness of his singing voice.





	Rhythm of Love

**Author's Note:**

> My girlfriend was sad so I wrote her this because long distance relationships can be dumb.

Keith always known that Lance had the most angelic singing voice known to man. But they were dating, so he supposed he was a little biased. He could sit and listen to his boyfriend sing for hours - while they were cleaning, in the car, on the quad at their college campus. Even if he was goofing off, Lance still blew Keith away with his range and the sweetness of his singing voice.

He liked it best when Lance sang in Spanish. It was so natural, the way it flowed, and he looked so happy when a song in his mother tongue. More often than not, Keith found himself whisked into some form of dancing with his significant other. Lance would take him by the hand, twirl him around.

The most common thing Lance liked to do was make silly faces at him while he sang. Sometimes he would sneak kisses, but he always made Keith laugh. The Korean had noticed that this was a habit his boyfriend had formed whenever it was a particularly rough day.

Those singing and dancing sessions usually ended with Keith pressed against Lance as the Cuban sang into his hair along with the music, swaying from side to side. They didn’t have these very often, but Keith appreciated them nonetheless. It was comfortable.

The point is, singing had becoming integrated into the Korean’s life. He’d learned to love it, love the way it changed the dynamic of their relationships and the routine of everyday life. A few years ago, Keith was left to his thoughts.

Lance had learned just how dangerous that had been when Shiro, Keith’s older brother, had called him by mistake instead of Matt and Pidge. Keith would never forget the look on Lance’s face when he woke up in a hospital, arms bandaged and pain thrumming through his temples.

After that, Keith’s boyfriend had taken it upon himself to immerse him into music. He couldn’t complain; he found he preferred the music tastes of his boyfriend over anyone else’s. Granted, they lived together, so it was about ninety percent of what he listened to anyways.

Sometimes, when all of their friends gathered together, Lance would bring his guitar out and they would drink beer and sing old camp songs. Other times, Keith would beg and plead and nag to get Lance to serenade him with old Cuban love songs.

At the moment, Keith and Lance were spending a day off together. Music was playing, of course, and they were baking a cake for Pidge’s birthday. Which is code for Keith was baking a cake - it had surprised him that he was the one who knew how to cook more than his boyfriend - and Lance was being in the way and trying to eat all the batter.

“Lance.” Keith snaps, swatting his hand away. “If you keep eating it, I’ll have to start all over.”

“Ouch,” Lance whines. He pouts for a moment, then reaches over to steal more. “I’m fine with that.”

“Well, I’m not!” Keith snatches the bowl away, just as the oven beeps to indicate that it was hot enough to start baking things. “Look, now you can’t anyways. I’m putting it in the oven.”

He pours the batter into three separate cake pans, sliding them into the oven and setting the timer.

“Now what will I eat?” Lance groans.

Keith rolls his eyes, sliding the oven mitts off and making a shooing motion. “Other food. I think we have chicken nuggets out in the freezer in the garage.”

The Cuban perks up, sliding off the counter and leaning over to kiss Keith’s flour-dusted cheek. “Hell yeah, chicken nuggets! I’ll be back.”

The Korean shakes his head fondly, looking over at him. He turns back to the task at hand, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the counters. He had never been a clean baker. Once, he’d baked a cake at Hunk’s house, and the poor guy nearly had an aneurysm. Now he stuck to his own kitchen. At least here, he could get flour all over the place and it was a team effort for cleaning, so long as he let his boyfriend “help”.

The music was playing softly beside him. Keith turns it up once he recognizes the song, humming to himself. He had never thought his voice was remarkable. Lance had been the one in choirs, with a couple voice lessons, with the garage band he’d been so devoted to in high school. Keith just liked to sing to himself on occasion.

He could harmonize, though. Pidge had told him once that his melodies were eerily good. He didn’t like to sing the low undertones that you usually found underneath the lead singers’ voice - he liked to find a pitch or a range that was new and fun to try.

The song that was playing already had a lead vocalist whose voice was strange. Not in a bad way, like some of the music Lance had tried to get him to listen to. This guy could do things with his voice that made Keith shiver and have to catch his breath. Lance liked to try and imitate him, just for the reaction he got out of his boyfriend.

Singing to this one artist was fun. Keith found new ways to sing along every time, by changing his pitch or adding slides or simply making his voice do incredibly odd things that made his ears happy. This was one of the times he experimented.

Personally, Keith was impressed just because he could hold the pitch. He sings to himself as he wipes the kitchen clean and stacks dishes in the sink. It isn’t until he realizes that Lance had been gone a long time looking for chicken nuggets that he stops what he’s doing, singing and all, and looks up.

Lance was leaning on the doorway, his arms crossed and a small smile on his lips. His blue gaze was incredibly soft, resting on Keith like he was the loveliest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Keith blinks at him, then blushes and looks back down, busying himself with the dishes. “Oh, hey. Did you find the… stuff?”

“No,” He hums, pushing off the wall. Lance walks over, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and kissing his shoulder. “How did you learn to sing like that?”

“Oh, I just,” He leans back into Lance, shrugging. “I dunno. I just… sing, I guess.”

“It’s beautiful.” The Cuban murmurs, nosing at his neck. “You’re beautiful.”

Keith smiles to himself, tipping his head back to look at him. “So are you.”

“Oh, hush.” Lance laughs, brushing his hands along his side. “Let me pamper you, babe. Let me praise your beautiful singing.”

“Lance...” He groans, a blush creeping up his neck.

His boyfriend laughs, peppering kissing up his neck and wrapping his arms snugly around his waist. “Okay, okay. Just promise me you won’t stop, okay? I wanna sing with you.”

Keith thinks about this for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah,” He consents. “I guess so. Just don’t make me sing in front of people.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

They stay like that for a little while, Keith leaning back against Lance. Music filters softly through the kitchen. The timer counts down. Life slows down for a just a few moments.

“Did you find what you wanted?” Keith hums after a moment.

“No…” Lance grunts, dropping his chin onto Keith’s shoulder.

“Did you move things around, or did you just open the freezer?”

Lance stays quiet at that, huffing and tightening his grip. Keith rolls his eyes, pulling away and taking his hand. “Let’s go. I bet you it’s in the back.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He whines, following Keith out to the garage. The two bicker good-naturedly, caught up in each other’s company and love. Back in the kitchen, the music that had brought them together plays on.

**Author's Note:**

> Duly note: this is based off a real thing that kinda happened. I was singing and I look over to see my girlfriend staring at me like I was some sort of angel- but she can play guitar and I will be forever in love with the countless times she's played that one Beatles song she hates just so I can hear her sing.


End file.
